


Let Him In, Heart In Hand

by waveryder



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: M/M, Welcome to the Jungle, post 3.07
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-05
Updated: 2017-12-05
Packaged: 2019-02-06 06:37:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12811779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waveryder/pseuds/waveryder
Summary: So much happened that night. Nate saw a part of Mick he never thought he’d get to see. A part Mick probably never wanted to show him.





	Let Him In, Heart In Hand

**Author's Note:**

> Set after 3.07: Welcome To The Jungle
> 
> This was such an amazing episode for Mick. I'm so proud of him. So is Nate.

“Knock, knock,” Nate calls, tapping his knuckles against the metal frame of the sectioned off part of the lab they’ve turned into a workout space.

 

Mick is beating at the punching bag set in the middle, sweat making his tank top cling to his body. He pauses, fists still raised, but quickly goes back to whaling on the bag.

 

Nate would be admiring the sight more freely if they hadn’t have just gotten back from the Vietnam jungle where they fought a giant telepathic gorilla and almost got executed by Mick’s dad.

 

Nate walks into the room kicking at a medicine ball on his way over the punching bag. He stands behind the iron pole it’s strung up on, in Mick’s line of sight, hands shoved in his pants pockets.

 

Mick won’t take his eyes off the bag, the sound of leather hitting vinyl echoing throughout the spacious room. Nate doesn’t say anything for a while, instead moves back to lean against the weight rack.

 

Finally, Mick halts his assault on the bag and takes one of his gloves off to grab the bottle of water that sits on the stool off to the side.

 

“You come in here for somethin', Pretty?” Mick says after downing half the bottle. “Or are you just gonna stand there and watch?” There’s something in Mick’s voice, the way he asks, that makes Nate blush down the back of his neck.

 

“I just…” Nate starts, but doesn’t really know what to say.

 

He doesn’t even know why he came here.

 

That’s a lie. He wanted to make sure Mick was doing okay. Wanted to see him. Wanted to offer some sort of comfort, even though Mick would brush it off immediately.

 

So much happened that night. Nate saw a part of Mick he never thought he’d get to see. A part Mick probably never wanted to show him.

 

It threw the historian for a loop, walloped him upside the head. When he encountered Mick leaning against that tree, lighter in hand -

 

Mick puts the glove back on and starts throwing punches again, not bothering to prompt Nate to finish his sentence.

 

Nate’s eyes wander to Mick’s arms, scanning the scarred skin, taking in every bump and ridge. He spots the sections that Mick burned, a blur as his arms move.

 

Nate is unaware of how intently he’s staring at Mick’s arms, until Mick stops, and calls out to him.

 

“You got something’ you wanna say, Nate?” Mick almost growls.

 

Nate’s eyes snap up to meet Mick’s. It’s a little weird to hear Mick use his name, usually sticking to  _Pretty_. Nate likes that. Likes the nickname falling from Mick’s mouth, rough and ragged, like tumbling rocks down a cliffside.

 

“I, uh, I just wanted to, uh,” Nate stammers. “I just wanted to see if you were doing okay. Y’know, because of all that happened. In the jungle. With your dad.” Nate winces at his own words.

 

“You wanna go back to being Doctor Phil?” Mick asks, holding the bag between gloved hands.

 

“No, man, I just,” Nate sighs.

 

He doesn’t know how to approach this.

 

He wants Mick to know that he’s there for him. But Mick is so closed off. So guarded. Nate’s positive that everything he saw in the jungle, Mick would have never, ever told him about. It shook Nate, it was so much at once. But Mick  _lived_ it. Nate can’t imagine the toll that takes on one man.

 

Mick still doesn’t say anything. Maybe doesn’t know what to say either. His whole life was laid out in front of him. Things that only Leonard new about. Scars that only Leonard knew what they were from.

 

And, well, now Nate knows too. It should scare him, make him shut down. Shut Nate out.

 

It doesn’t.

 

He just doesn’t know what to say right now.

 

Nate pushes off the weight rack and walks around the bag. Mick backs away, and takes the gloves off. Nate takes this as his cue and stands between the bag and Mick.

 

“I’m not gonna force you to talk about it,” Nate says. “But after everything, I want you to know that..” if he doesn’t say anything now, he might never get through to Mick. “I’m… I’m here. For you. And I'm proud of you.”

 

Mick doesn’t meet Nate’s eyes, but he does drop his gloves, wipes his hands on his sweat pants, and walk towards the stool where the half full water bottle still sits.

 

“And I don’t know if that means anything to you. I know we have, like,  _a thing_ , and it’s not that serious but I care about you and -”

 

“Thank you,” comes Mick’s gruff response.

 

Nate blinks at the man, or rather, his back. Mick slings a towel over his shoulders, and picks the water bottle up. He doesn’t uncap it or drink from it. Nate can here the plastic crinkle under Mick’s grip.

 

He wants to see Mick’s face, look into his eyes.

 

“Thank you for not running away,” Mick says, voice pitched low, Nate almost misses it.

 

He doesn’t. He hears it.

 

Nate’s feet carry him forward before his brain can abort mission, until he’s right behind Mick. He tentatively raises a hand, and places it on Mick’s shoulder. When he doesn’t feel Mick tense, he squeezes and tugs, silently asking Mick to turn around.

 

He resists, but only for a moment, before turning to face Nate. His face is flushed, redder than usual. He’s got sweat covering his upper lip and brow. His eyes have lost that hard edge, though, for now. Nate’s hand is still on his shoulder.

 

“Hey, I’m not going anywhere,” Nate says, with more conviction than he had before. “No matter what, Mick. You’re stuck with me.”

 

Mick takes in a deep breath, eyes glued to Nate’s.

 

“When you refused to take your lighter back,” Nate says, “that was probably the bravest thing I’d seen you do. And I’ve seen you do a lot of dangerous stuff.”

 

Mick actually chuckles at that, and Nate smiles.

 

“You still got it?” Mick asks.

 

“Yeah,” Nate replies.

 

Mick gives him a short nod. They’re still standing close, Nate’s other hand had wandered up to Mick’s other shoulder. Neither makes to move away.

 

“You, uh, you said we have.  _A thing_ ,” Mick says, awkwardly. “And that it wasn’t serious.”

 

Nate nods slowly, waiting for Mick to continue.

 

“Well, it… it could be,” he stutters.

 

Nate blinks rapidly a few times, surprised by Mick’s words. His confession.

 

“Yeah?” Nate asks.

 

Mick clears his throat, and nods, looking everywhere but Nate’s face.

 

“If you’re still interested in being with an old, beat up, thug,” Mick says, trying to lace his voice with humor. He just ends up sounding self deprecating.

 

“Okay, one, you are none of those things,” Nate says, firmly. “And two, I already told you. You’re stuck with me.” Nate tilts his head, forcing Mick to look him in the eyes.

 

Nate steps even closer, and slides his hands back until they meet at the back of Mick’s neck, and Mick’s own hands rest on Nate’s waist.

 

“Scars and all, Mick, I want it,” Nate says, serious and strong. “I’ll take it, and never let go, okay?”

 

Mick doesn’t know what to say, so he doesn’t say anything. Instead he pushes forward until their mouths are pressed together. Nate doesn’t miss a beat, moving one of his hands to cradle the back of Mick’s head as they kiss.

 

They part before things get too heavy. If Sara walked in and found them rutting against one another in the place she calls sanctuary, she’d have both their heads. Nate rests his forehead against Mick’s, their noses brushing.

 

“Does this mean you’ll finally move into my room with me?” Nate asks, boldly. He’d been wanting to ask, but didn’t want to cross any boundaries. Wanted to let Mick have his space. “Because you  _still_ don’t have a bed, and you sleep in mine all the time anyway, so -”

 

“ _Pretty_ ,” Mick says, cutting Nate off. “If it’ll get you to stop talking, I’ll shack up with ya.”

 

Nate laughs at the phrasing and rests his head on Mick’s shoulder.

 

The weight and tension from earlier have dissipated, leaving nothing behind but an openness that Nate feels he can freely walk through. Like Mick had opened a door and welcomed Nate in, and invitation he gladly accepts.

**Author's Note:**

> find me @ [bottomraypalmer](http://bottomraypalmer.tumblr.com/) on tumblr


End file.
